


Once upon a Time (There was Hetalia in my tumblr)

by Anonymous



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cardverse AU, Domesticity, Double Penetration, F/M, Femdom, Gen, Harry Potter AU, M/M, Masturbation, Nail Painting, Sibling Incest, Temeraire au, Vampire AU, Voyeurism, WAFF, counting games, handjobs, power games, stilettos, tumblr migration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-15 05:43:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 37
Words: 18,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16927536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: A collection of all my tumblr drabbles and short one-shots. Migrating from tumblr.Each chapter title has the corresponding ship and kink or rating.Year of posting 2012.





	1. Red Stilettos (RusCan)

 

Ivan tugs at his handcuffs. They are strong he notices, and for a moment wonders how did the Canadian get possession of them. The Canadian in question is smirking just sitting there, wearing only a white and fluffy bath robe and those lacy red stilettos.  
  
“Do you like it Ivan?” Matthew asks innocently, crossing his legs before one heel starts to rub the inside of his thighs parting the white robe little by little “Do you want to do this?” he tempts his left foot moving from caressing his right leg to push at his hardening length hidden under his pants and dammit it is so hard and so hot and _pleasekeepdoingthat_ you vile creature!  
  
The older nation bits back a groan when the ministrations stops and glares at the Canadian who frowns “Say it” his voice isn’t soft anymore, but Ivan knows it will take much more than this to make him lose his cool. He shivers in anticipation. This is their game, they will tempt and tug and drive each other mad until the Canadian is riding him furiously or he is untying those damned red stilettos with his teeth.  
  
Whatever comes first


	2. Fever (GerCan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GerCan dubcon

Germany never wanted to do that. He had been called earlier by Gilbert and arrived at France’s villa expecting to be harassed and suffer through their lewd jokes and their drunkenness. He never expected to be guided into a much lavished room and left with the task to baby sit the nation of Canada. The same nation he had a cr- _Taken An Interest_ recently. It wasn’t intentional that, when he placed a cool towel on the younger nation’s forehead, he brushed Canada’s errant curl.

He did not want to get turned on. He was helpless; he just leaned over startled by the moan, thinking Canada was hurting -even when his mind knew that moan was less “I am going to die” and more “please take me”. Canada was splayed out, his chest rising and falling rapidly, lips moist with saliva and red with heat.

For a moment he stopped, shaking his head. He was not going to kiss a sick man, not even if those lips were tempting him! He was Germany! Not some little needy teenager!

Right then Canada groaned, eyes opening lightly and unfocused. “Who?” he whispered hoarsely.

“Don’t be a pedophile West” Gilbert had said before leaving, voice serious, red eyes looking at him “Take care of birdie”

Too late Preussen, Bundesrepublik Deutschland did not heed your warning and won’t share.

It was warm inside. Germany paused, closed his eyes and reigned himself in. It was indescribable, Canada was warm, his skin wet and supple with sweat. Feverish arms wound around his neck, a warm cheek nuzzling unconsciously against his cool skin and the most needy moans being breathed against his ear. Germany’s skin tingled, and his stomach flipped deliciously when those mauve eyes -already clogged with pleasure- rolled in a sea of lust once he tugged that delicious curl. It was almost like Italy’s – but more sensitive than he would have ever imagined.

Germany bit back a groan at the sight, Canada gasped, trembling in pleasure and squeezing his member deliciously. He felt clogged with dark desire a foul part of himself taking pleasure from it. Here on his lap was the nation whose name he could not pronounce at the beginning of the last century without having a panic attack.

Here he was now: putty, vulnerable and out of his mind with a fever, delirious with pleasure, spread out leaning against him, and with a pure Germanic cock -his cock- buried deep inside.

A feral smirk formed on the European’s face.

Maybe he could prompt Canada to scream his name before he comes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #Gercan #That's not the moral thing to do Ludwig #I'm at odds about how to feel with this #I had wanted to write that #Canada already had a Boyfriend#South italy #and he left Matthew over Francis' care but he wanted to go out and so Prussia called Ludwig#and then his happens #ugh


	3. Colony!Amecan (foot fetish)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #how does adoration/humiliation foot wprship sound?#with America worshipping Canada’s feet#and Canada feeling humiliated while all America wants is for him to feel precious?

He breathed in. Lips pressing into a scowl trying hard to forget about the damned scent, but it seemed to follow him like a hex. Like a curse that takes hold of his mind and makes him hallucinate with a woman who approaches him, kisses him tenderly and smells dicretely of roses and cinnamon with and a touch of honey.

He can still smell it, even if there had been more and an hour since their unhappy encounter. He could still feel her heartbeat under his fingers, he could still see those frightened mauve eyes unhindered by glasses, her breath on his cheek, the way those coral lips trembled. He felt as if his house was smelling like that blasted perfume he had searched daily just for her.

He knew Madeline had hidden depths, anyone who took a moment to analyze her would know. But he didn’t want those to be the things that made her thick! Or did he?

Suddenly, the ring of his phone broke through the hazy red atmosphere, quickly he retrieved it.

“Hello?” he asked, composing his voice, knowing perfectly well who could be on the other line.

“A- Arthur? I- I’m sorry, something showed up I can’t go to our date” her meek voice doing nothing but anger him more. Once he would have been sad, but then he would smile fondly his heart warming at hearing her voice.

Not now.

“Don’t worry poppet. I was just about to call, I have received awful news” ‘I had already cancelled the booked restaurant, hoping you would show up there, still frightened and being ignored by the Maitre’ he thought darkly

“O- Oh is everyone alright?”

“No, but I will make sure they will. That’s my job after all”

He could feel her warm smile through the phone “That’s so thoughtful of you Arthur. Well I have to go now, have a good night Arthur. Be safe”

he couldn’t help the tug of his lips “you too poppet. be safe”

The line went dead, and with it his smile.

Blasting situation he had gotten himself into. And damned wom- No. It was not her fault Arthur was fond of her, it was not her fault Arthur had a double life, but it was her fault for leading a double life as well!

'Calm down Doctor Kirkland’ he thought heavily, hands on his head, tugging at his hair 'she doesn’t know, you should act as if you don’t’

“As if I don’t know?!” he laughed bitterly, with the humor of a man whose dreams were crashing “how can I? Tell me, how can I ignore that?”

'She would be mine’ he had thought, looking at her blushing face. Noticing the little things that made her smile, made her blush and feel loved. He had imagined them, perhaps in a few years, sharing an apartment with a little balcony where they would have little plants and roses in pots. They would bicker a little, complain about work, perhaps even daring to do some risque fantasies. It had made him happy, made him wish he was normal, a better man for her -and he would have, he knew as a man who knew about how minds worked, that he would have let that go if he had her by his side.

'She will be mine’ he had thought happily, but now he knew. And the truth hurt him, pierced his chest and ripped his heart, devouring it and filling it with dark and unhealthy longing for the only person who ever made it beat.

“She was never mine”

But… he would make her want to be his, and then he would have her. Arthur smiled, going to his cabinet and retrieved his whiskey. Was it for celebration or to drown his sorrows? He didn’t know

Slowly he drank the golden liquid. Well, at least now, he wouldn’t need to leave his bad habits behind.

He smirked. Celebration it was.


	4. Cardverse pt1 (AmeCan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred and Matthew are twins. But twins bring misfortune, and so Alfred was exiled and put to death.  
> Or so Matthew believes.   
> Yet in his dreams, he still sees his brother, they are still connected. Even if the one in his dreams is far different from the brother he remembers.

“We will be together again Mattie. Even if I have to destroy everything you worked so hard for and drag you with me.” He hissed making the crowned King involuntarily flinch beneath him

“Stop this insanity Alfred!”

“tell me you want me to” he whispered against his ear, holding the other tight. Relishing on the heat even if the skin was cold. 

Matthew’s heart fluttered, but the King narrowed his eyes, just what game could he be playing at? They were not children anymore, and even then, they should not be seeing each other. At all. “As the King of Spa-" 

"tell me as Matthew, twin of Alfred that you want me to stop” the older man cut heatedly, blue eyes boring into violet, a hand inching closer to cup a cheek.

Matthew turned his head away, eyes judging him with frost. “Even if I do it you won’t”

“Then why don’t you try it?” he asked, face close to his majesty, his nose touching his brother’s cheek, hand inching to touch the other’s chest right above his heart “I know your heart Mattie, you do-”

In a sudden movement Alfred fond himself on the floor, Matthew on his feet, towering over his form, a knife -a royal heirloom- on one hand. “Leave. Don’t make me bloody my hand with our blood Alfred”  

“They have changed you” was the only thing he could mumble. Just who was this stranger, and what they done to Matthew?

“I could say the same to you.” the king replied, eyes blank, betraying nothing. Not even how his mind was clouded, or how fast his heart bat.

“well then I’ll leave” the estranged twin replied easily, before swiftly taking hod of the other again, a hand oh the knife, an arm around his waist “but you will regret the day you had the opportunity and chose not to stop me.” he sealed his deadly promise with a stolen kiss and with a flutter of his cape he disappeared.

Matthew fell on the floor, lips trembling, his grip on the knife tight. 

_Twins bring misfortune._  

“Why Alfred? why do you want me to kill you?” He asked to the empty room. The crown of spades shadowing his form. 


	5. Cardverse pt2 (UKCan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur Kirkland, Queen of spades is a complex man. The most powerful mage in the world, the most powerful individual second only to the Ace of spades (and the King, were he whole and not divided in twins). Yet his magic needs to be nurtured, and so he must eat magic, and energy from other humans through any means necessary -often sexual. The higher the magical power, the greater his desire and appetite. 
> 
> He is as feared as he is desired. He is as needed as he is shunned. 
> 
> He expects no different from the new King, yet it still hurts when his attempts at soothing the young royal are met with scorn.
> 
> (Scorn he deserves.)

Matthew felt hands roaming over his body, teasing his nipples, opening his sleeping robes. The feel of his skin against silk was tantalizing. The touches were lethargic, and the bed was warm enough to make it feel like a dream. Sighing in contentment and pleasure Matthew stretched pleasantly, loving more of the texture beneath his naked skin, loving how those hands followed him. They massaged his muscles, patted his legs, explored his body with ease.

Then hands took hold of his hardening length and he woke up abruptly - the feeling too real and intense for it to be confused as a dream.

Instantly he paled, the man in front of him had blonde hair, and tanned skin. There could only be one, the one who had plagued his mind ever since he became King.

Noticing the other was awake, his hold became firmer making the king moan “A- Alf-” the movement stopped and the man looked up. Disbelieving emeralds clashing with panicked mauve “Arthur! what … what are you doing?”

Arthur immediately let go of his shaft in a gesture that could not misconstrued as anything else but disgust. “The duties of the Queen.” he said as matter of fact, crossing his arms, face morphed into a bored rictus.

Matthew scoffed, taking a pillow to hide his arousal and gave the other man a glare “Don’t come at me with such an excuse. You know very well I can’t feed your magic, there are many others in this castle that would be honored to do so.” He tried not to squirm at the stern gaze the Queen gave him. It reminded him of the days when they- he had been a prince going through his lectures.

“It is the Queen’s obligation to lessen the stress of their King.” he repeated with the same tone a teacher would have in a class full of bratty students; and then his face morphed into a relaxed almost fond look “You need to unwind Matthew.”

Unable to stop the blush -just how long had it been since someone said his name? Had his name ever sounded so lovely?- he frowned looking away from the naked man “I will unwind when I die, not before.”

“And it is my duty that it doesn’t happen any time soon.” Arthur replied, used to the other wits. sitting over the prone figure on the bed, he tossed the pillow away, hands starting to roam Matthew’s well defined inner thighs in measured strokes.

 _‘It is the duty of the Queen’_ he repeated mentally, mixed feelings -and a strange kind of longing- battling inside.

“Ah- Arthur stop.” the younger man arched, stopping those wandering hands. eyes hazy with pleasure and shame “this is considered rape.” me sighed lowly.

Arthur snorted “Is it now?”

“you are going against my wishes.”

“Oh and what are they?” the other incited, breath close to his face, eyes taunting him the same way his twin’s did.

_“say Mattie would we do the things mom and dad do when we are sleeping? I want to do them with you”_

_“I think you have to do it with someone special”_

_“I am your twin. I am the most special for you Mattie!"_

his twin.

_Alfred._

Pushing the Queen of his body the King replied evenly "To not be touched intimately by the person who brought us to our father, and took Alfred away.”

Recovering quickly the Queen took hold of Matthew’s chin, emerald eyes hard “you should’t call that one by a name. You will grow attached.” he warned.

The King snarled slapping the hand away “'that one’ is the other half of my soul, and his name is Alfred.” he leaned, hands cupping the Queen’s face “If you want a king that is still human you will remember it. The Kingdom of Spades cannot have a king who is  _ _half empty__.” his voice was sweet, but they both knew somewhere deep inside Matthew, a bitter monster was growling through.

 _'and can’t I fill that void in your soul?’_ Arthur bit his lip before those traitorous -and unexpected- thoughts left his mouth. climbing down the bed, he took his robes, dressing himself mechanically. His back always to their king.

“Very well,“ he started derisively once done "then jerk off to a mirror will you? The guards are worried and Yao is trying his best to calm them down.” he ended hurt turning into acid permeating on his words as he gestured the mirror in front of the bath.

Matthew laid on the bed, and as the Queen left, he had a gut feeling he had made a great mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yao is the Jack of Spades


	6. Cardverse pt.3 (USUK. Focused in Amecan & UkCan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes you read that correctly. UsUk. but you will find, it is less romantic and more Foe-yay-ish.
> 
> even downright murderous. Nobody will back down from his claim on Matthew. 
> 
> Also, Arthur’s magic is fed upon human energy, especially that of pleasure, and Matthew being a twin, has a power that complements his other half. Which means he lacks in the areas his twin has mastered over, but is a monster in the areas of Alfred’s weaknesses.

 "Look at you, groaning in pleasure, like a little whore" Alfred taunted, pushing his hand harder against the Queen’s crotch making him moan in pain and pleasure. He could feel his head becoming dizzy. so much energy, it must have a delicious taste, suddenly he wanted a sip. “Then again, your powers always make you a whore. You will get it up for anyone”

It hurt more than what was expected. yes he knew people would make jabs and envious comments about the way he fed his magic. It didn’t mean he wasn’t sensitive on the subject. The royal nobles were honored to offer  their energy for him. But deep down, he knew he would be seen like a common whore. 

Everyone except…

With a quick spell he blasted the intruded away, dusting his clothes, regaining his composure. Willing his arousal away. “I’m sorry. You lost me there for a minute” He replied haughtily, pride wounded. “I was just thinking how you could have such a disgusting energy… when your brother’s taste like ambrosia” he mocked, licking his fingers in a lewd gesture. 

Blue eyes widened, disbelieving at what he heard. His mind racing at the implication the Queen of Spades was hinting. “You!!”

Arthur smirked impishly “You have actively wanted to revive your connection,” he crossed his arms, a gloved hand cupping his chin in a clearly condescending gesture. “I’m sure you felt when he reached his peak and his energy left his body" 

Alfred felt his blood boil, fist clenching. Yes he had felt that before but he had never imagined. Just how could that happen? Matthew- no he couldn’t he must have- "How dare you?!” he growled, blue eyes shining enraged.

“Well naked and in your room of course. Did you think I would have the gall to do it while clothed?” he explained sweetly, analizing a way to escape the soon to be berserk man. Matthew was strong, but his might laid with his words, he didn’t want to test the other side of the coin. much less while enraged. 

However he loved to see the normally smug man despairing. _‘serves you right, receive a little of what you have make your brother feel’_ “Your brother’s body, he shouldn’t be clothed when he’s writhing in pleasure after all” Alfred saw red at the words. Ground breaking under his unleashed energy he charged forward wanting to slam that dirty whore to the wall. rips his limps and squash his heart. 

Just how dared him to touch his brother? He had seen them kiss, but the image of Matthew writhing under this sullied man -under anyone other than him- arching and moaning, moaning  _willingly_  - he screamed enraged. 

_Just you wait Mattie. I’m coming for you next.’_  he thought wildly 

Arthur widened his eyes, never expecting such a display of power. Dodging right on time one of Alfred’s punches, paling when he saw the wall behind him break into pieces. He jumped away, planting a slowing curse on the ground, trying hard not to tremble in sheer panic as he saw Alfred break the curse with easy. Hopping onto the wall, freedom at his fingers and one quick spell away, he sighed and looked at the man. 

“I’ll have to see you later Alfred. Right now the king is indisposed, and in dire need of tending. It is the Queen's responsibilities after all" 


	7. Cardverse pt.4 (Outsider's perspective)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now for something different, this one isn’t about either Matthew, Alfred or Arthur: this one is about the Other Kingdoms (Hearts, Diamonds and Clubs) first meeting with the newly crowned King of Spades, focusing on the King of Hearts’ reactions.

It was rumored the new King of Spades was a twin - half a twin.

It was rumored his unfeeling heart wasn’t moved by his father’s death, that his face had been the perfect mask of solemnity while he guided his father through the river of fate and into the gate of afterlife. Not a single tear was shed by the crowned royal, nor had his eyes shone in sadistic glee or happy scorn for his late father. People had praised his self-control lighting the torches on either side of the river as the new King marched.

But no one knew the truth.

The other Kingdoms were baffled, always expecting Spade to have been in the brink of annihilation ever since he closed borders on the rest of the kingdoms hateful for the Rumor the King of Diamonds had spurned about the King of Spade’s sons. They had never expected the Kingdom to be prosper and thriving with new goods and their people happy and joyful when the borders opened once again.

They hadn’t been happy to finally leave the Kingdom. They had been happy to just be able to dominate new markets.

It was just a matter of time before troubles between merchants and trades began to bloom. Neither Diamond, nor Club, nor his own Kingdom were prepared for such an assertive trade and found their economies in peril, and so a meeting with the new crowned royal was in order.

Nobody had expected the King t arrive accompanied just by his Queen and  without a proper entourage of guards and airships. It was said that the Queen of Spades was an unforgiving and swift warlock whose spells could shake the earth and blacken the skies, whose might far surpassed that of the former Queen, his father, and who could single-handedly level entire armies.

(The king of hearts tried not to laugh at the descriptions, but the King of Diamonds had described the Queen of Spades with the same seriousness he had told the other about the misfortune of Spade’s heirs)

Fantasy or not, such an asset was very coveted and pleasant to have, but to only bring the Queen and the lone and faulty force of two men to protect the King was downright foolish.

“It’s a new King” The King of Diamonds had laughed shaking his head, hand on his balcony as he saw the landing. “Surely the Spades have lost their minds, sending the lamb to the wolves”

“The new King is very naïve is he not?” giggled the King of Clubs, violet eyes dangerous, surely planning a way to jeopardize the naïve royal.

The King of Hearts just nodded, watching two lone figures disembark after two guards. “Are we sure the negotiations can’t begin without him?” he asked, itching to just forgone protocol and just go back to his kingdom, believing he had no time to blabber with a child. Feeling irritable at the waste of resources and money on sending spies to that Kingdom.

The spies he had sent all came back with a smile on their faces, and the same word of advice “do not underestimate the King of spades, he is loved by his people" 

Perhaps they were wrong. A king needs to be powerful, but he could see the rumors held true. People of Spades loved the new King, they had to love him the way a poor peasant loved a new doll.  

None of them were prepared for what came to them.

It was rumored that the king of spades is a Twin. Rumors and omens aside, a sole twin shouldn’t become a king. A half soul couldn’t have enough power to Rule a Kingdom, much less be on par with any of the other Kings.

Ludwig scoffed at his actions, trembling hand arranging his hair. The meeting had ended almost an hour ago, but his body couldn’t stop trembling- wouldn’t stop until he couldn’t see the Spade Airship on the sky. He didn’t know how the other Kings were faring in their own private quarters, and to be honest he didn’t want to find out.

After the meeting, after everything was said and done, after the treaty had been signed Ludwig had turned to his alcove on his airship, legs heavy, head clouded, and fear gripping his heart. He was too ashamed of his folly to even care about any other Kingdom. He had forgotten the principles of them all, he had forgotten what made the creed of the Spades, and in that he had gotten weak and arrogant and fell prey to the devil in a frail looking body.

The kingdom of Spades valued power over anything else, they wouldn’t have left someone weak take the throne - and as the King of Hearts had realized on that cursed meeting,  they didn’t. All the signs had been there, Ludwig realized with guilt and remorse, The Queen of Spades hadn’t stepped into the meeting room, preferring to stay outside and eat something for breakfast muttering something about "going on vacation”; one guard had given the king a briefcase before bowing and going back to the airship; and even the King of Spades had bowed nodding at all the court members of the three different Kingdoms, not even once asking if the meeting could only be with the leaders alone.

They had humored the young monarch anyway, feeling cocky and condescending until it was too late. Until the doors closed behind the  King of spades and that smile changed for a honest grin, violet eyes fluttering open, regarding them with such a security and confidence that made them feel inadequate and then he uttered those damned words

__“Good morning my Kings"_ _

The King of Spades appeared lean and small compared to the rest of them, but underneath the pleasant smile was the tongue of a monster. It was unnatural. It was terrifying. His voice and his words had deftly sparred, unarmed and eviscerated all argument and proposals not according to his desires, and at such an event neither of them could regain enough head to be on par with those words. Ludwig closed his eyes shut, he could feel a headache coming, but more than that he could feel trepidation and sheer panic at the possibility that the Rumor the King of Diamonds had fabricated years ago held true. Just the idea of thinking the King of Spades to be a twin made his bile rise. A sole twin was supposed to not have that much of a strength -like Feliciano- but he…

__"I am glad we could make peace with the trades. Have a good evening. Voyage safely."_ _

Snarling Ludwig let himself lose control, throwing a bottle of wine -one he had carried with himself for celebration, and perhaps with the interest of bringing political relationships closer- to the wall. The voice would haunt him. Mock him, tempt him to declare war just so he could silence the King forever.  

 


	8. AmeCan smut&fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warning: mentions of non-con

 

When it was finally known that the North American twins were dating, and therefore sleeping together it came to the surprise of almost everyone (save perhaps the few that knew them well) seeing  _America_  limp and not the other one. Call it habit, or stereotype but most of the nations never thought the oft-forgotten nation to be  _able_  to top America also known to some as the biggest dick (figuratively) in the world.

Those who knew them however… they knew very well it wasn’t much a power play of “I’m topping the raging superpower” and more of a trust play. Canada being a nation who wasn’t invaded or had any major conflict often tended to regard those he had near his heart where they remained tender making him grow mistrustful and defensive of any approach out of the strictly necessary by the nations that burned and recreated him. Alfred was one of those nations on the Canadian's 'do not trust’ list, knew of the unfavorable reactions Matthew had when he initiated anything sexual. But he loved Matthew, honestly  _loved_  him, and that meant he wasn’t phased of relenting the control to his brother.

He trusted Canada to not hurt him when they made love, and Canada trusted him to not fight back or use their intimacy to seize and conquer him. Thus it meant Alfred was always on the receiving end of their horizontal tango -not that he minded, there was a reason Canada was amongst the top 10 lovers in the world, and limp aside, it was always a very smug, satisfied and euphoric American who left the bed and went to meetings. 

But he wanted more. There were time he had vividly dreamed of taking Matthew on his bed, among the pillows, feathers floating about from the tear Matthew had made when he had entered him, sweet moans and “Oh god Alfred harder!” filling the air, and his mind and his heart. Alfred wanted that immensely, but he knew he couldn’t. When Matthew kissed and licked his cock, he knew he couldn’t touch Matthew, especially his hair: last time it happened Matthew had become hysterical, violet eyes lost, he had bitten Alfred’s hand kicked him in the gut and ran away. It took a week before he came around with a heavy “I’m sorry” and it took a month before he allowed kisses again.

America knew he had earned the mistrust. It was no secret -but perhaps a bit forgotten by history- that he wanted Canada, and had invaded the other twice -and had been twice denied. But just a few knew Alfred hadn’t just tried to put Matthew on a cage, he had wanted the other as his, to carry his mark so the whole world (known and unknown) would see. The first time he had tied Matthew to his bed, barely robed, and would have done much more had it not been for General winter freezing his soldiers and him as well while he took his brother to safety. The second one had been different. 

Alfred closes his eyes as he remembers the sensation of his brother terrified and inexperience tongue laving his member unwillingly while York burned. He remembers taking that beautiful hair on his fist and force him to swallow all, loving how his dearest Mattie answered and spasmed all around it. He remembers cumming on is mouth, loving the chocking sounds while he destroyed the English colony’s clothes and stretched his entrance with his fingers. Matthew had been so terrified right then, but all Alfred could see was ‘minemineminemineminemine  _mine!_ ' 

As luck would have it, a burning log fell down on them, his body receiving the impact, his back burning while Matthew, now free from the other’s hold, scurried away. 

Alfred didn’t blame him. The scars had long since faded, but his back remained sensitive. A constant reminder of what he had destroyed and couldn’t regain.


	9. AmeCan (HP AU pt1)

They weren’t twins, but they had grown believing they were, and were still family though. Not twins, just half brothers, because their father couldn’t control his dick and had this horrible personality of getting what he wants and coveting what is forbidden. The truth had unraveled on fifth year, and once the term ended Matthew spent the whole vacation with his true mother and her husband - Arthur’s brother. 

Perhaps it had been the long absence, or perhaps it had been the way his brother had acted once they saw each other, but Alfred couldn’t help but notice everything about Matthew, all the little details about his body, the way he acted, his unconscious gestures, and compare them to the time when they were children. When there wasn’t a rift between them. Because there was one now. Matthew acted more aloof and dropped all pretense of liking Quidditch and stopped going to the games, and avoided the celebrations.

Their relationship had become distant, colder, just proper greetings, a pat on the shoulder nod and shallow smiles, and Alfred hated it. Hated to think all those years were a lie, and that Matthew had never loved him. 

“You don’t understand” he had said dismissively when confronted one afternoon in the astronomy tower. “I am your brother, but at the same time I am not. I need to know how this will be from now on”

It had hurt. It had hurt and had angered and had wounded deeper that he thought to hear their relationship be called such by his brother. “You don’t have to think about it!” he had shouted, taking Matthew by his robes Shaking him “it will be just the same! I don’t care if you are not my twin we still are-!”

“No Alfred.” Matthew cut in, prying his fingers away from his robes “There are some unsalvageable differences we have to live with” and without much else he left, and Alfred found himself alone.

He wasn’t very bright when it came to context, he knew that, but he doubted someone else would understand what Mattie was going on about. That was all Arthur’s fault, if his father hadn’t screwed up none of this would have happened. He and Mattie would still be the best of brothers, and he wouldn’t have to worry about ‘unsalvageable differences’ or such.

It wouldn’t be until Halloween, when Peeves had pulled a prank on everyone and Matthew, dripping wet, had stripped to his briefs in Gryffindor’s common room that he would finally understand what an 'unsalvageable difference’ could mean. Perhaps it had been the long absence, or the sudden coldness, but when he had seen Matthew sprawled on a rug near the fireplace to get himself dry, naked save for his briefs his heart stopped. He could only watch that body lying leisurely on the carpet, fair skin glistening with the light of the fireplace, wet hair clinging on his cheeks, a contented smile firmly on his face; and think for the first time that the one before him was a gorgeous stranger and not his brother.  

Alfred had chastised himself, Matthew was his brother, he shouldn’t be detailing his body so intensely, no matter how inviting it looked. Mattie was his brother, nothing  more. But somehow the curiosity of touching his skin and tasting his lips and doing all the little things close siblings did when he had had a chance never left him. Somehow he couldn’t stop his eyes to roam over him when the other wasn’t looking, he couldn’t stop feeling a stab of jealousy and some other things he couldn’t name when Lars - that dangerous seventh year Hufflepuff- slid an arm around his brother’s shoulders and told something on his ear.  

His father had this awful urge of coveting and owning what was forbidden, it was due such a reason Matthew existed today, and Alfred had swore to never become like that. But as the weeks passed, and his interest grew and fantasies began to bloom he realized with horror and self loathing that he would become like Arthur.  He coveted the forbidden: he desired his brother.  And as he brought himself unwillingly to climax on the men washroom, a perfect picture of his brother wanting, and flushed and pliant beneath him on his mind, he never hated himself more.

Matthew hadn’t come tonight to the Gryffindor’s bedroom, and he had been too close to Lars today. 

It was unsavageable: they were brothers. It was forbidden: Mattie didn’t love him. But he couldn’t help the dark curls of desire -the so called 'Kirkland curse’- to stain his soul. It wasn’t his fault of the turbulent feelings ha had or the lascivious reactions his body had tonight, Alfred was certain of it. 

This was all unwanted. 

It was all Matthew’s fault. 


	10. Amecan (HP AU pt2)

 

It was maddening. With every denied touch, with every ignored glance, with every refusal to reply Alfred’s desire grew. He wanted Matthew, all of him, everything that he could offer and everything else that he couldn’t - Alfred would find a way to tear it and claim it as his own.

It was maddening, it was illogical, it was foul and it was a sin.

Matthew was - is- his brother, the only one who shares his blood. No matter how much Matthew wants to deny it, no matter how much Arthur wants to repeat it; Alfred knows Matthew is his brother. The fact that they do not share the same mother does nothing to alleviate the unforgiving bite of sin, but it does feed the fire of foul desire.

He is losing his mind, Alfred knows it, but somehow, he finds himself not wanting to stop it.

He longs for his brother, for a bond he has lost. He longs for it, his eyes gleaming in sadness whenever Matthew walks by without a familiar smile to him. He can’t do anything else but stare, and wish to hold his hand once more, of playing Quidditch together, of the quiet afternoons in the Owlery feeding Freedom (and freedom misses Matthew as well. She has started nipping his fingers harshly, reproaching him for not being able to bring her other master back) of sleeping together on the same bed, sharing heat and little secrets during Winter.

But Matthew remains distant no matter how hard Alfred tries. But maybe he hasn’t tried hard enough. He knows he hasn’t tried hard enough when he sees Matthew walking freely with that seventh year Hufflepuff. Matthew should be by his side, speaking freely with him only, giving those smiles only to him - like it used to be.

But he fears. He knows of the cursed blood running on his veins, the so called “Kirkland curse”, the bane that pushes him to covet what is forbidden. Matthew is the fruit of Arthur’s curse, and like a coherent tragedy, Alfred covets him, wants him with an intensity he was ignorant of. He doesn’t know what he wants anymore. He wants his brother back, but he wants so much more - he wants to touch, to cherish, to conquer and to own.

Ever since that Halloween night he has wanted Matthew. The sight of his barely covered body has haunted his dreams, fueled his fantasies, fed his jealousy, and polluted his mind.

But it is not his fault. It isn’t even Matthew’s fault - he has done nothing wrong. It is Arthur’s fault. Arthur who made the trench between them, Arthur who sent Matthew away last summer. It is his fault and those of Matthew’s “real” parents who brainwashed Matthew into this stranger.

But even so, even if he isn’t guilty, the curse remains. Alfred wants, and the curse unfurls growing every day.

It is maddening, but Alfred doesn’t want to stop it, not until Matthew is moaning under him, on the grand bed of the room they used to share as children; until Matthew belongs to him only. Forever.

and perhaps not even then. Perhaps he will only stop the madness when he is holding Matthew’s body, dragging him to death and eternal sleep.

Alfred hates himself for desiring it, but doesn’t feel any guilt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's wrong. Alfred knows it. Yet he can't stop coveting his twin, desiring him lustful and pliant beneath him.


	11. Temeraire Au (RusCan gen)

 

“Leave your jacket on the floor over there will you?” Matthew said hastily going inside turning an oil lamp more ut og habit than necesity “and your boots too” he added while his own clothes piled up at the entrance. Not even once wondering if the other nation was cold. 

It had been a mistake. All of this had been an awful mistake. -yes let’s go and see how we can coordinate commie and free aviators!- that’s what his brother had said, he should have been suspicious after ‘commie’ but he was not. 

Wonderful.

“I am very sorry Mister Russia, to enlist your help after what happened, but there is this door I cannot move by myself” the Russian -whose face was turning sourer by the minutes passing- did not make any signal of acknowledging what was said. He just kept looking outside to where his wounded Ironwing was lounging. 

Canada kept quiet and just roamed in the bookshelf, before taking out the tome of “Geometry and arithmetic by Dulcia” immediately the bookshelf creacked before moving aside revealing a door. 

At the commotion the Russian finally turned around expectantly. “here I need your help opening the door” he gestured the handle. the taller nation looked at him suspiciously before pulling to no avail. 

Canada bit his lip. he really needed that oiled skin, it was the only thing that could stop the corrosion of the Ironwing’s skin. Outside the storm roared  but Kumajirou had already made a safe haven for them both and now was tending and calming down the wailing dragon. 

A noise woke him up of his musings only to find the Russian  and the opened door. He rushed inside looking for the barrels with oiled dragon skin, there was no time to loose, else the wing would be lost. “You have nail and thread right?” he asked more of a reassurance than a genuine question while carrying the barrel outside. 

He would care about his numbed limbs later, as an aviator dragon’s safety always came first. 

“Now mister Russia I need you to calm your dragon, else it will make it more difficult” he breathed on his gloved hand before taking a crowbar and opening the barrel “please lay down, Kumajirou,” the snow dragoong perked at the use of his name “you know what to do, come and- ”

“NO” Russia said once he realized what was going to happen alerting his dragon who started panicking “you will not freeze Kol” a hand grasped his wrist and Matthew bit a yelp of pain. “M- Mister Russia,  I know I have not gained your trust” and there was nothing to it, Alfred maneovre couldn’t be called anything else but hostile and fishy “and my actions speak of suspicion but-” he gasped while making signals to his dragon to not attack “I know how to treat those kinds of wounds. Living with Arthur’s Excalibur has helped me a lot.”

tense minutes passed between them with only the storm roaring outside the iced chapel and Kol’s pained cries before Ivan nodded. 

Matthew sighed. Well at least this would be a breakthrough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur’s dragon is a Longwing named Excalibur 
> 
> Ivan’s dragon is an Ironwing named Kol
> 
> Scotland's dragon is a Royal Cooper named Nessie 
> 
> I believe America’s Dragon is a Dakota named Freedom
> 
> France dragon is a Flamme de Gloire named Jeanne (who despises Kumajirou, Canada’s dragon)
> 
> and Canada’s dragon is an invented race of Dragoong - a pure white dragon who spits liquid Nitrogen, but has an absurdly slow growth (at least 150 years to reach an adolescent stage)- named until further changes Kuma.


	12. Colonial!AmeCan (gen)

Canada doesn’t remember the first time they met. Alfred does, and part of him is glad Matthew believes the first time they met was when England brought him home. 

He doesn’t want his little brother to remember the pain, and the high fever of the numerous infected wounds on his body when England finally took hold of new France. Canada is too sweet, his eyes and skin too soft, too gentle, he doesn’t deserve to remember such a painful time. America will make sure of it. 

Canada should be happy, smiling, away from harm, away from bleeding, away from dying. America had promised- had swore to himself- that day, at the time where England’s celebration was cut short when he truly saw the state of his next colony and had demanded doctors to be sent to that room. He still remembers those feverish and trembling fingers holding his hand, how his hand burned him, how those unseeing eyes broke his heart, how much he wanted to stop those tears. 

But the past is irrelevant. Canada doesn’t remember it and so he has the perfect chance to make his promise come true. America smiles honestly -the way children smile without knowing of evil or wrongness- when Canada’s face lights up taking the flowers he has given. He blushes a little and thanks him with a soft voice and then he does something America hadn’t been prepared for: Canada kisses him on the cheek softly.

Alfred is befuddled for a moment, not knowing what to do, but when he sees England starting to frown he takes his little brother’s hand quickly and tugs him away to the garden.

The kiss felt nice. He wouldn’t mind these kinds of rewards from Canada if he kept the other happy.

America is just a child, innocent, without having a grasp of what is evil or wrong. It won’t be until a century later when he looks at the naked nation sleeping next to him, sensual, sated and wonderfully pleased, that he feels embarrassed and perhaps a bit guilty about how things turned out. 

But that’s not here nor there.


	13. RusCan (Canada is Vinland) [Gen]

Vinland struggled against the arm that held him in place. His lilac eyes filled with tears that could not be shed as he watched Rus be dragged away by one of his brothers. Rus looked back, his violet eyes brimming in pain as Denmark tossed him back into his own land.

 

~a few Centuries Later~

  
It had been a torrid affair. It had started innocently, when he was still too young, but then the strong vibes of unknown passion had taken over their senses one night and they had discovered so many things about the others body. It was a Torrid memory, full of Ecstasy, pain and tears of hopelessness.   
  
At least that was how Vinland remembered it.   
  
He only had ghost fragments of warmth and tenderness, haze memories of another boy, similar to him, of the scar on his arm where he had tried to fight a vicious hold and of a name.   
  
“Rus”   
  
The boy in his memories was just that, a boy. That’s why he did not recognize this man in front of him. Clever violet eyes, strong jaw, and a decidedly masculine scent. This man -he couldn’t be anything but that- moved with a dangerous grace, and had been staring at the Nordic nation with he hunger of a predator.   
  
“You have grown up” he growled, something in that voice making Vinland melt. Just who was this man, and why was he looking so expectantly? In a corner of the room Denmark looked downright murderous, Norway’s troll the only thing preventing a bloodbath.   
  
They were here, signing a treaty -an alliance- with the Tsardom of Russia, a preemptive agreement, if something was to happen in Europe again. Brother Denmark and Norway didn’t look happy about the terms of agreement, even if they weren’t directly affected by it: the Empire would make a bilateral alliance, if and only if Vinland was to have a ‘direct Union’ with  him.  
  
That is, he would have to 'marry’ whomever was the Tsardom of Russia, but his sovereignty was still on his brother’s hands.   
  
Vinland himself was not phased, a marriage was a marriage, and while the blood of his people demanded war and conquest, they knew fully well that a peaceful agreement would be stronger. Plus what was a bit of carnal exchange between two nations for a few decades or centuries of peace and protection?  
  
He had thought it would be easy, but with the man in front of him - he had to be the  Tsardom of Russia, there was no other way- he started to doubt. He had his share of centuries, but his appearance was that of a young man, nothing like the nation in front of him. That body seemed to have the strength to swallow him whole.   
  
… and he was still looking expectantly. as if he wanted some confirmation of sorts. What could he say on such situations?   
  
Well they were married now, were they not? biting his lips, he mustered the courage enough to lean up, sneak one arm around Tsardom’s neck and kiss him.  
  
Customs be damned, he would fight the probable punishment for doing what couples did in public.   
  
However instead of punishment, or a hard push, those strong arms circled him, pushing him flush against the other’ body, a hand tilting his head to deepening the kiss, and the other’s mouth opened and then–   
  
Vinland widened his eyes. It had been a torrid affair, only fleeting memories here and there, the image of a boy with light hair and eyes the shade of his own, and the scar of an unforgivable hold.  
  
But that flavor. It was unmistakable. He gasped in pleasure, before breaking the kiss, looking at the man with a new light.   
  
His lips trembled “R- Rus?” The man only smirked triumphantly and dived for the kill. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this was an alternate universe, I wanted luck to smile at Russia, so Peter the Great never became the Terrible, and Corruption was held at bay. Thus why there are still Tsars in Russia even after the WWII (which btw was not started by Germany but Austria against Hungary and Switzerland.)


	14. AmeCan Counting games

“Ten o- Oh, Thank you” he moaned breathlessly, the sting on his backside and thighs turning him much more than what he imagined. Canada shook his head, just what was wrong with him? When did he start to enjoy these little pain-pleasure sessions? Just when did America become so deft with the whi-

a sharp slapping sound reverberated on the room, and Canada couldn’t contain another moan when the whip hit his thighs. “You should speak faster Mattie” the heady voice taunted “I’m overlooking that a young nation like yourself is already so lewd getting aroused by punishment. But I will not tolerate insubordination”

the Canadian breathed softly, their play was just too heady for him to be in character for long and-

“Did I make myself clear Canada?” came the heavy warning. The younger nation didn’t waste a second before counting and thanking him.

wanting more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love counting games. Especially when the partner must thank him after each hit.


	15. UkCan [Coming without being touched]

“You’re beautiful Matthew" 

Canada doesn’t know why it happens. This is not the most sexual thing he and England had done that night. England wasn’t even touching him, he was on the other side of the room, his jacket still on, trousers not undone, and Matthew was just with his shirt. 

But he had come at those words laced with affection and something else he didn’t want to look into too deep - didn’t want to make his hopes flare. 

England to his credit doesn’t comment on the reaction - even though he is very, very pleased (knowing he still had some magic left, had something he could do to make the one he loved in silence pleased) and instead walked over and took his former Colony’s chin.

"Look at me Matthew. I never say words I don’t mean. and I mean these” he started seriously before leaning over, licking his ear, relishing on the subtle tremble it caused. “You are beautiful Matthew, and even if you decide to never be mine, it won’t change the fact that you are beautiful” nor will it change the fact that I desire you so. 

Matthew stilled at those words.

He was hard again.


	16. Us/Fem!Can/Rus [Double penetration]

Canada groaning biting harshly on her brother’s shoulder who just laughed pleasurably at her reaction - the masochist.

Why was she doing this again? Why was she sleeping with them both while sober? Why had she agreed with the idea in the first place? Why was her body humming in pleasure at being so deliciously stretched by the two largest cocks in the world? She shuddered pleasurably.

Rough hands kneaded her breasts while Alfred caressed her lower back in soothing circles. “Breath” came the heavy accented voice and she did, feeling the tightness give a little, feeling both cocks sliding deeper and deeper, lubricated with her juices and lube, lapping at the fingers on her mouth, sucking on them to distract herself from the shallow thrusting.

It wasn’t working much. Her body loved this depraved and dangerous pleasure.  

“Can you feel it Maddie? This is where you belong right now.”

“With  _Us_ ”

“ _Between_  us”

Maybe she should be glad that the two super powers weren’t killing each  other right now and were being much more agreeable than usual. 

And Maddie wondered again - just before her mind was lost on ceaseless rough thrusts and unexpected pleasure- why is this called the Cold War when it is so damn hot in here? 


	17. Ruscan (Angel!Can, gen&fluff)

It wasn’t easy being an angel, your form tended to change with how humans believed you were supposed to look like. Especially when one was on earth and not the “heavenly plains” (he still wasn’t sure why he was on earth anyhow, and being made a nation to boot. He was sure he hadn’t fallen, but with this responsibility he knew he would never go back any time soon.) It was good, he supposed, there had been a time in which his from grew out of proportion and he looked positively grotesque. Now he was more human shaped -even if he missed being able to look behind him- and it made his work easier, angels now just had wings and a halo, and looked perfectly human - what’s more he was able to make them invisible so on one noticed unless they put an effort, or two and two together, like someone had before- but that’s not here or there. The point is he was more human, but at the same time it wasn’t easy being an angel. Yes his new appearance helped… 

except from one detail.

“Ivan if you don’t come here right in this instant I will unleash the fury of heaven upon you!” Matthew groaned lightly biting the pillow in frustration, his wings twitching uncomfortably in a room full of feathers.

The Russian’s scream of “I'm coming!” was only so soothing and for a moment Matthew was tempted to sin and get this over with. The door opened with a creak and the scent of vodka and spices filled the room - there had been time where it was the only thing he needed to experience intense arousal, now however all he felt was relief, and inexplicable wrath.

(Lord, please, it was just a little, not as much as to actually do much harm)

“why were you so late! I was about to die in here!” he screamed in frustration, hands clawing at the shackles on his wrist, head trying not to lay on the wet spot on the pillow where he has bitten before. Ivan took the abuse in stride, not paying attention at the murderous glance and left the bowl with fresh water on the nightstand. He placed a hand on the angel’s forehead, nit paying attention at the whining it caused “you are too hot! go and freeze away from me!” for he knew the other didn’t mean it.

Even before  he started a relationship with the other angel-turned nation (and after getting over the fact that angels seemed to exist) he knew Canada was very polite and didn’t get angry easily. He was very patient and reasonable. He only tented to forget his “good virtues” in bed and on special situations.    

Like this one. It only happened twice (once if they were lucky) a year.

“Shhhh, Shhhh Matvey, I’m here, I was looking for fresh water” he soothed lightly, inspecting the angel’s wrists. No blood this time. Good. He went to retrieve a cloth and wet it a little before nearing it to the twitching wings. Steady, he didn’t want to cause a desperate reaction - one time had been enough. 

“Ah” Canada moaned in relief when the cool cloth pressed lightly against his heated flesh, right at the juncture where wing met flesh. Goodness that felt fantastic. 

Ivan just smiled, tending the wings tenderly. “They are looking much better now” he added when he finished examining the wings. 

“Is that so?” was the only muffled answer. “how much left?”

the nation eyed the wings critically, “one or two days Matvey” he was only met with a resigned groan.

It was hard to be an angel on earth. 

it was harder when your “angel wings” were more wings than angelic and molted.


	18. Spain/Belgium (implied Belgium/Liechtenstein)

It was his fault, Spain concluded once Belgium went to shower, that they were in such a predicament in the first place. He hadn’t talked to the Blonde woman since the horrible break up some centuries ago (and boy was he dealing it much better than England who sometimes when drunk still Spitted Alfred’s name in anger), but he should have known better than to insinuate her personal conquests in a world meeting - no matter how tipsy and vindictive he felt. 

It turns out Belgium was taken, by  _Liechtenstein_  (and how that had happened was something he would love to know), who, understandably was offended by Belladonna's trail of past lovers and  had fixed her the “You will sleep on the couch dear” look before storming out of the room, leaving both to Vash’ anger. 

They hadn’t died, that’s for sure, but this new arrangement wasn’t good either: they had to stay here, in this hotel room until Lily convinced his brother to let them go.

“You will sleep on the floor Spain” Bella informed him once out of the shower, towel wet and tied tightly around her body (pushing up those delicious breasts, the Spaniard noted with satisfaction - hey it may be his fault, but it doesn’t mean he wouldn’t appreciate beauty when  he sees it) legs wet and tantalizing, hair dark, plastered against her neck  "Lily and I were going to have a wonderful dinner and you just had to ruin it.“   

"It may be” he conceded, too satisfied with the view to actually try and deny his dues “but honestly señorita, all of us here have had many many lovers you surely wouldn’t expect her to be mad at-”

“Lily was a maiden when I laid with her” Belgium interrupted, hands crossed under her bosom, making the towel part a little over one leg, and Spain would never miss  _that_  "she entrusted me with it, and I had promised to her I would never betray such trust.“

"Oh” the Iberia nation paused, letting the words sink in. Maybe Belgium truly wanted to settle down? A pretty foreign concept, but he supposed it ran on the family, his brother had settled down with that kid from the new continent had he not? 

Looking at her again Spain stoop up, leaving his jacket and loosing his tie “well then Belladonna, would you like me to repay you?” he smiled, not missing how those green eyes darkened at the exposed skin, and he made sure to bent his knees just right so that his trousers would look tighter and his backside more prominent (God gave him that, he ought to put it to good use!) “Perhaps you would be interested? Por los buenos tiempos?”

Belgium bit her lip, studying his former owner, he may be an asshole, but he had a damned body to make it up for it, and well, sleeping with Spain wouldn’t be considered promiscuous. 

Not when she and Lily had talked about how would it feel to have a threesome with the Spaniard. (that delicious ass had to be worth one or two things right?) 

Decision made she threw the towel away, leaving herself nude and glorious, a smirk firmly in place. “You better one up to that offer Antonio, Lily is a true master with her fingers. You better know what you are doing with that”

Spain laughed rakishly “Now, now mi bella Bélgica, when have I disappointed you?” and with that he tugged hr by the wrist, pulling her closer to devour her mouth. Feeling a smug pride when he felt her moan and push that generous bosom against his chest.

Oh yes, Los Buenos Tiempos.

* * *

 

In another room Liechtenstein smiled, dress undone  and eyes glued to the screen. If everything went right, maybe, just maybe, the possibility of a Threesome wasn’t so far away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Señorita = young lady  
> Por los buenos tiempos = for the good times  
> Bella Bélgica = beautiful Belgium


	19. Uk/Ffem!France (romance WAFF)

There were a few things that France loved to do more than enjoying a good wine and a deep conversation. One of them was without doubt angering England.  Few people would look in too deep at her actions, and sadly she was one of them, there was just this exhilarating thing to grate on the other nerves, rile him up at meetings, and toy with the idea of a hard make up sex.

Oh because he knew how to do it. It was less a ground on technique and more of stamina, when they fucked (and as crass as the word was she would continue to use it because  _they were not together_  - and that doesn’t bother her, don’t be silly!) he somehow would find the energy and the strength to left her sated and boneless on the bed while he finished for the nth time inside her, over he breasts, between her ass cheeks, anywhere. 

Sometimes though, but just  _sometimes_ , she wondered what would feel like to actually have a serious relationship with England. Unlike many other European nations who scoffed at the thought of settling down, she was a romantic at heart, and part of her longed to experiment what would it feel like to wake up with someone constant on her bed, someone who loved her, and who made a good breakfa-

Well perhaps not breakfast, she rather liked to stay alive and have her palate sharp and fine thank you very much.

The thing is, she likes to bother Arthur which is why she was a bit concerned when non of her strategies worked on the Englishman. Arthur stood composed throughout the meeting, taking the concealed and not so concealed jabs with an air of dignity and security that left her ruffled.  

Ruffled enough to never notice when the meeting was over until said Englishman had called her, voice steady and posture still composed.  

“Have you ever wondered if maybe we should” Francine didn’t miss how those green eyes flickered away from her face to a wall, oh, so Arthur was ruffled a bit, how cute “stop this crass sexual escapades and instead made love?”

France froze, blue eyes looking at England, per of her not believing what she hear, and the romantic and awfully Parisine part of her leaping at the opportunity   

Oh yes. Life was good.  But he better try to court her with more than just words, a poem or two and a nice bouquet of flowers would be nice. 

and perhaps a romantic dinner. 


	20. AmeCan [goading to watch a masturbation]

“c'mon baby, just do it” was the impatient demand.

“Alfred this is embarrassing!” came the flustered rebuttal.

Alfred groaned before pushing his brother to the bed and parting his legs, hands on each side of his brother’s head. “C'mon Mattie, you said anything I wanted” he repeated, blue eyes coy as he took one fair hand and pressed it against his owner’s groin “this can’t be worse than that time on the subway” his only reward was a flustered Matthew and a hard push to the side.

Canada knew it had been a bad idea to offer such a thing on Alfred’s birthday.  'Whatever you want’ he had said, and he had expected something mischievous like doing it in the wilderness, or something weird like letting that weird mochi fuck him senseless, but no, apparently what Alfred had wanted the most was something embarrassing. 

Well perhaps not as embarrassing as that time the American has felt him up and brought him to completion on the subway, but still embarrassing. 

“I don’t know what is your deal Mattie” Alfred’s curious voice brought him away from his musings “I just want to know how you pleasure yourself, what you do, what you touch, what you think.” his voice grew rougher and rougher as he spoke, mixing danger with sexual intonation “what do you think, which name you scream when you come. ” and then he was all over Matthew, towering over him, a hand cradling his cheek gently. “I masturbate thinking about you, I always have”

Matthew zoned out at those words and how could he say those words with such an innocent tone was beyond him, wasn’t that criminal? But well he had made that offer, he had to own up to it. “Is this what you want?” he asked shyly, trying to muster a wicked smile to set the mood. he couldn’t let the party boy leave disappointed could he?

Alfred smiled, taking a chair and sitting on it, leg on each side of the back, arms crossed at the top “oh yes baby get down to it, spread those legs and-”

“Such a dirty mouth you have” Canada tutted taking off his shirt, sucking on a finger before letting it travel down his lips to circle a nipple, closing his eyes at the wonderful sensation. “when I do this I always imagine it is you putting that insolent tongue to good use” he whispered lewdly, violet eyes opening to watch the nation sitting in front of him. 

“so be quiet Al, and just enjoy”


	21. RusCan at Hogwarts

 

“Are you sure this is allowed Prefect Braginski?” Matthew whispered dubiously, while the 5th year Slytherin prefect guided him away from the ruckus. It was not Matthew’s fault that Professor snape had forgotten he was still in the classroom when he started testing the first years potions - his brother’s more precisely.

Of course on top of getting hurt, he was confused with Alfred and got an horrible grade.

At least the points deducted were Gryffindor’s. Served his brother right.

The tall prefect just smiled “Da, you need to clean those wounds” the Canadian frowned, for a first year he was very clever, they probably didn’t want him to go to Madam Pomfrey and leak their mistake. Slytherin was a very prideful house.

“Take off your clothes” those words woke him out of his musings and he paused taking the detail of the room. 

‘Is this even a bathroom?’ the Huflepuff thought awed by how large and furnished it was. There was a large tub (more like a swimming pool) in the middle, with velvet droppings, candles with a scent he could not recognize and numerous bottles with pinkish and reddish and white salt. Prefect Braginski was there without his robes opening up one of the bottles. 

“Matvey was it? take off your clothes your back is hurt isn’t it?” he nodded shyly taking off his robe (but leaving his boxes, there was no injuries there no need to take them off as well) not even once noticing the approving glance of the 5th year Slytherin.

“Good, now sit here” Braginski said gesturing the border of the tub who was now filling with some blue water “I am going to start disinfecting your back. warm broad hands straightened up his back pushing up his shoulders before a cold wet cotton glided down his back. Matthew bit back a hiss before the prefect stopped, cotton still on a wound in the small of his back.

"I’m sorry. I had forgotten” his voice was anything but, but Matthew could not lash at him, especially when the older boy was breathing on his neck - literally he could feel his large nose poking his left ear “open up your mouth” Matthew froze before he avoided the cold thin object and tried to fight the hold he was in. Ivan sighed and stopped him easily.

“This…” he began once he was back seated at the edge of the pool “is a thermometer, you probably know this. It is used to measure temperature. There are potions which need just a bit of contact to start their effects. Especially when gone awry.” Childish violet eyes stared at him, with a bit of mirth, probably because of his reaction. “I need to be sure you are not going to get sick or suffer side effects from it" 

Matthew tried hard not to pout. Yes what Ivan had said made sense, and it was a thermometer. He didn’t know much about potions, but what he had seen earlier was positively dangerous. Why shouldn’t he trust him?

Yes he was a Slytherin and he had heard all those horrific stories about what they did to first years (drug them and then kill them and make them zombies) but he was a Hufflepuff -a thing Braginski had pointed out immediately after Snape deducted House points- which meant he was not on the snakes shit list.

Yes he was not allowed to go to the infirmary, but he was taken to an equally nice place (the water was deliciously cool). Well maybe it wasn’t so bad? Sure Braginski was all intimidating but maybe it was the curse of an unfortunate appearance. Decision made Matthe just nodded opening his mouth sticking out his tongue "Yes prefect Braginski” the older teenager chuckled while placing the thin object. “Call me Ivan Matvey”


	22. AmeCan Bushel of apples (WAFF)

Canada stretched on the bed, sighing in complacent bliss before opening his eyes and not finding America on his bed. Instead, a large pillow had been placed and Matthew wasn’t sure whether to be touched Alfred had been thoughtful on leaving something for him to cuddle into (it even had a bit of Alfred’s cologne!) or disappointed.  Deciding on just pushing the pillow away Matthew stood out of the bed, went to his dresser and put some boxers (It was no mystery to anybody that chanced to look, that Matthew always slept naked) before going downstairs and asses which disaster his boyfriend and his bear had created in the kitchen. 

He never expected the sweet scent coming from the kitchen, nor did he expect Alfred, nude safe for an apron bending over the stove, placing some molds into the oven.

“Al?” he asked perplexed, ignoring his bear going over the bushel of apples against the backdoor. His brother turned around, unashamed to have been caught in such a state of undress and only waved a simple “g'morning Matt” before going to the sink and clean the utensils.

Matthew blinked before approaching his lover, letting his hands ghost over the tanned ass and then circle his waist, not missing hos Alfred tensed deliciously unser his fingers “what is this all About Al?” He asked

Alfred just chuckled before turning aroud, blue eyes content, wet hands on his neck, the sund behind him, and Matthew forced himself to keep on breathing at the sight. Alfred looked stunning in the morning. 

“I don’t need a reason to pamper you Mattie” he answered easily, before taking his mouth into a sweet languid kiss. Matthew moaned, answering with enough enthusiasm, a part of him touched by such an answer.

He could taste bits of a green apple on his brother’s mouth.

He moaned; the flavor rivaled that of Maple Syrup.


	23. ScotFran (rescued a cat)

“This is the last time you will bring that devil’s creature in here!” France complained, looking at his destroyed garden before glaring at the perpetrator. Said devil’s creature meowed lightly, eyes mockingly innocent as he was being held by his owner, a fiery Scotsman who just laughed at the whole situation.

“François- ” and dammit, the man could say his name in so many ways that always left him wanting to kiss him, he should have been able to overcome that after a century or two of being together! “-  _Mata_  is just a kitten, he doesn’t know very well places that should be off limits. Stop being harsh” he explained heartily while nuzzling on the kitten who just continued to meow.

Francis huffed annoyed. Tow weeks ago Altistair had found a little stray kitten on Paris and had taken an instant like to the poor creature that had been more bones than anything else. The Frenchman had found that very romantic -it had been raining as well- and had let his lover bring the animal home. He had never expected the chaos the newest little guest would ensue. Alistair had been paying more attention to that creature, and like right now, he was waving away the disaster it made… he had even once stopped in the middle of a very very heated night to pet the damned creature because it was mewling in distress “And why did you name him after Mathieu? I just can’t fathom why!”

The Scotsman stopped laughing, green eyes looking at his old lover quietly, assessing him before patting a shoulder and pulling him closer. “Mata has the same eyes as the other Mata-” it was true, the kitty’s eyes were certainly an interesting shade of violet “and like little Mata, this little kit needs attention. Never doubt that I love you more, but don’t you think your jealousy may be the one pointing out all of little Mata’s mistakes?" 

Francis paused and looked at the kitten in contempt. He was definitely not jealous, but maybe, just maybe, he was growing unbearable with age, and that was something he wanted to avoid: he would never become like Arthur, thank you. Mata mewed, violet eyes looking up trustingly at him, the way only innocent creatures could. Francis sighed in defeat.

Ok maybe it could work. But only after he taught that little animal how to properly clean himself. There must be excellent cat products to make the fluff shiny and beautiful, and this kitty wouldn’t look anything else but stunning if it was to stay with them. 


	24. UkCan (semi dark)

Matthew is there, talking to that french frog in the well furnished hall of the Conference building. He is all smiles, soft hand raised to cover his mouth from a polite chuckle, all lean and alluring in that well cut suit of his (textured gray was truly complementary, and he feels a pang of jealousy. He shouldn’t have given that to Matthew if he was going to flaunt it to everyone. Truly a sad miscalculation) and evading all of France’s approaches and flirtatious proposals with a grace Arthur never had.

Arthur can see how frustrated his frenemy is getting behind that smirk, and Arthur doesn’t want anything else but to shove him out of a window. He knows France’s sudden bout of flirt was because of Canada’s appearance. No matter how hard the other tried to deny it, France was after all really shallow when choosing the people he hit on. He just had to hit on the only nation Arthur would never allow to.

Well,  _openly_  allow to. It isn’t as if Arthur had any authority over who could share the Canadian’s presence and who could exchange words with him or who could touch him. Canada wasn’t his colony anymore, and so it wasn’t like Arthur could hide him away in a tower as he had before.

Ah, he had looked truly beautiful then, in the tower, dressed in silk, skin fair from not going much into the sunlight, eyes avid with knowledge, voice steady, hand swift in the use of a sword and manners less French and more British. He should have never been swayed into letting the boy out of the tower. He had once been perfect, ethereal, powerful and regal in that tower, now he was often overlooked, more placid and the skin had now stray freckles and was normally bruised. 

Seeing that he tries not to scowl. Matthew was getting ruined, he ought to do something soon. (Arthur stops denying himself and his dark bouts of casual possessiveness, this ‘gentleman’ and 'privacy rights’ thing is fairly new, not even half his age!)

If Matthew was still the same child of the tower his aggravating conversation with France would have been over already. Matthew was not one to bear with unwanted things for long; he would have told France clear and steady he wasn’t interested and “- I really appreciate your enthusiasm but I have to go. Have a nice day!”

Arthur pauses on his musings at the words and looks up again, he can barely see France’s scandalized frown, everything he sees is Matthew, smirk in place as he approaches. “I’m sorry for being late Arthur, I was held up” he excuses with a tone clearly indicating that it was the older nation’s fault he was late.  _You didn’t like it? you should have intervened instead of waiting for me to solve it on my own._

Arthur snorts. On his time outside Matthew’s tongue had become more cutting as well “You should be more punctual, I didn’t raise you to be otherwise” a lie, punctuality wasn’t something he raised Canada with, the northern nation had learned it during the first world war.

“Of course” he snickers quietly, violet eyes flashing with mirth and fury “so Which restaurant are we going? I have to text Al” Arthur just smiles amiably and tells his ex-colony.

It seems tonight he wouldn’t be able to whisk him away. One day though, one day Canada would forget to text Alfred where he was, and the wayward son wouldn’t know and wouldn’t be able to 'save’ Matthew; and then Matthew would be back in the tower, where he shouldn’t have ever left, and then Arthur could cure him of that hatred that consumed Matthew’s utter adoration of him.

and then, everything would be alright.

It was a challenge indeed. But Arthur always loved challenges


	25. AmeCan (semi dark)

Sometimes America is aware of how sick and twisted his love for his own brother is, how unhealthy their relationship is and that if they keep it going they will crash and burn and destroy each other; that they won’t have a happy ending. (and for a moment he feels guilty, because perhaps if it wasn’t for him and his behaviour when they were children, Matthew would be able to love kindly and happily and perhaps be with someone better and definitely not be trapped in this travesty of relationship they have)

But then he scoffes and laughs, because for him there wouldn’t be any happiest end than to meet final death at the hands of his beloved brother, or to drag his little Matthew with him to the eternal blazes forever. 

… And if his beloved refused to go with him -if he ever regained enough sanity for that- America would only make him sleep and drag him anyways knowing that when Matthew wakes up he would love the fact that there was ice in hell as well.

(sometimes however the guilt won’t leave and he wakes up his brother and demands a confirmation of the other’s feelings. Matthew -no matter how bloodied of hurt he is- beams at the prospect of showing his brother over and over how much he adores him)

Canada does not know of the maniac guilt, and sleeps (he’s sleeping an awful lot these days) and snuggles to his brother’s bloodied torso. When he wakes up the wounds are healed and goes to the kitchen and makes breakfast. He never thinks of their relationship as a twisted and abnormal one, nor does he think their relationship will end up badly destroying each other (why should it? Canada  _loves_  his brother, and destroying him is the total opposite of that, right?). He thinks this is perfectly normal and he doesn’t have anything else to compare it with: that’s the only kind of love he has ever received. 


	26. AmeCan (VampAu)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vampire Matthew was poisoned. But Hunter Alfred hesitates at the last moment.

Alfred walked through the hall, the echoes of his steps the only company in that cold and solemn evening. He wasn’t mourning, of that he was sure, it had to be done, there was no room for regrets. He has buried them long ago. At the end of the hall he opened the heavy door -the cold steel burning his hands as it ought- and entered the spacious round room, marble tiles shining like mirrors, moonlight filtering through the windows and the colored glasses painting the one before him all shades of silver, red and blue. The light roses coloring like an canvas the pale skin were more delicate than the ones Alfred held on his hands, and for a moment Alfred stopped, unsure if he should continue.

The body would be naked if it wasn’t for white silk and the mirage of vibrant flowers on his skin, and Alfred felt like a voyeur. But he had to do it, narrowing his eyes he approached the body, the mud on his boots dirtying the floor and he was sure Matthew would be angry-

No. No more, after tonight Matthew-

Alfred’s lips pursued into a bitter smile, leaving the roses at Matthew’s hands, the petals looking foreign against those elegant fingers. ‘They would look better against his hair’ he thought looking at the body and refraining from placing a hand on the forehead, or running it through golden waves. If he didn’t touch he could keep the illusion longer.

The Illusion that Matthew wasn’t-

Alfred swallowed, saliva warm but heavy on his throat and gripped the dagger -a fine work of holy and silver- “Hey Mattie” he started, and for a moment he hopped the other would wake, he never liked it when he used that informal way of address. But there was no answer, and after tonight- Alfred shook his head. It had to be done “Sweet dreams” he whispered with a tenderness he had never shown the other and stabbed Matthew’s heart.

Or at least tried to, for his body wouldn’t move, his hunting hand stopping itself from even touching the pale skin. The hunter chuckled, voice broken. He couldn’t do it, no matter what he couldn’t kill- “You win Matthew” he confessed into the night, voice quiet and resigned “ I don’t actually know how to do this”

When no answer was given, he leaned over the cold body and let tears of shame flow out. What a hunter he was, his mentors would scorn and disown him. “Not strong enough” they would say “A waste of time” they would conclude “and he had such a great potential” they would mourn.

But it was his fault. He couldn’t do it.

Hours later Matthew woke up, mauve eyes bleeding red, shining more than the roses decorating his skin and found Alfred’s warm body pressed against his. Smiling sweetly, the vampire lord brushed golden hair away while another hand tossed the dagger away, not minding how his fingers burned.

It had been a test, leaving himself utterly vulnerable in front of Alfred so soon wasn’t something he had planned. He had to sleep the poisoned blood away, praying to anyone that the hunter wouldn’t do his work. But it had paid off.

Smile growing wider and stretched over the hunter’s body, fangs aching in hunger, but he was too pleased to pay attention to the sting. “Thank you Alfred” he said against his ear, and kissing him chastely on the lips he went out of his room to find a servant to suck dry.


	27. Cuba/Canada Sun and Moon AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is a Three sentence fic. Literally.

“Have you ever wondered why are we so different?” the dark skinned deity wondered, kissing the pale skin of his impossible love, relishing on the gasps it elicited, enjoying the cool skin trembling against his lips. 

Matthew groaned, pushing himself up, shoulders leaning and rising coquettishly and looked at his love - at the only one he loved but could never have “Because fate is cruel”

The Sun laughed, nipping a shoulder, broad hands parting the Moon’s buttocks, deft fingers teasing “Because we complement each other. We are meant to  _be_ ” he revealed as he stole the Moon’s breath with a searing kiss; and as the Eclipse continued, they became one.  


	28. AmeRusCan [Ivan gets to be in the middle, WAFF]

“I never pegged you for this type” Alfred confessed amused at the sight. Yes, the idea of Russia and cuddling was bizarre. But then again Matthew was involved, and Matthew loved cuddling (the habit of having lived with a very soft furry friend for his whole existence) so it should be a surprise.

_Ha ha_

Fat chance.

There was no way he could stop himself from gaping at the sight of them sleeping in bed. Cuddling. As in Hugging, as in Russia, as in Russia doing the cuddling while Matthew just slept here noe the wiser.

Alfred snickered, taking his mobile. “Photographic eveidence!” He sang while taking a picture, wondering for a minute if she should upload it, but deciding he rather much liked to be a live and not being denied sex.

Approaching the bed, he was careful of not waking any of the two nations and bend down, passing a hand through I'van’s hair before kissing both him and his brother on the forehead.

Oh they looked good like that. Too good, very inviting actually. Smiling he made a quick work of his shirt and trousers before climbing onto bed again scurring his form into Russia and hugging him from behind. Russia was big and a bit squishy, and his scent was very intoxicating. He made the perfect pillow. Kissing Ivan’s shoulder, he rearranged himself into a more comfortable position and went to sleep.


	29. PrUK UST

“We should just fuck already” England to his credit, does not spit the tea. He just looks at the wild nation before him, one strong eyebrow raised and green eyes glinting with mirth. He knows the proposition hasn’t come out of the blue, they do have an interesting intimate history together - as Arthur and Gilbert. Prowling through the streets, having quests and challenges of a very scandalous and libertine nature between each other in their youth, conquering nations even if they were the ones being conquered. They had created a terrible reputation in Europe (and Asia, and Africa - but not America, Spain Portugal and surprisingly  _England_  himself had been adamant on leaving the new world alone) and not necessarily because they had been great empires.

It was liberating and exhilarating - a friendship that remained loyal and true even on the most critical and hurtful of moments: World wars, dissolution, bombings, they were nothing for them. What bound them together was a kind of loyalty based not on emotions, or a secret pact (even if there had been one) but on memories and actions.     

(Arthur does feel a bit smug at being the one who took away Gilbert’s awkwardness of a female body. It was the most ludicrous affair, for he had never fathomed to be the guide, but he had swore to the other silence)

But -against all prognostics- they had never laid together. Except for that glorious time where they had tag teamed Belarus - and boy wasn’t she the perfect beast in bed? Estonia was the luckiest of men! But that was neither here not there.

Gilbert looks at him, eyes determined and curious, his posture very inviting and without the barest hint of shame. England roams his eyes over the confident figure -not missing how Girlbert’s smile widens at the action. He knows Gilbert’s body, knows his strength, has seen the power in action, and in England’s eyes there is no one more attractive than the former land. Even if the other is not as strong, even if the skin leans more on the sickly pale side, even if he isn’t as physically imposing as say, Ludwig or Denmark.

Arthur sets the cup down. He admits of being curious how it could be, he has had fantasies about it once or twice (or thrice, or more, he may have lost count little after Suez), and can’t contain his excitement on knowing he isn’t alone on such desires. It doesn’t mean he would let things be easy. 

smirking, he rubs the cup’s arm suggestively, even if it looks like an unconscious gesture and leans forward “Why should we?” he challenges - and feels heat start to pool on his lower abdomen when the other whispers “Because I know you would love nothing more than see me scream your name when I come" 


	30. GerIta (Bottom!Germany)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

It is not a normal occurrence for Germany to sleep in, nor is it for Germany to not mind having slept in. Normally, on the rare occasions that he does, he jumps out of bed, frantically searches on his mobile for any institutional messages and lost calls while waiting for his laptop to turn on and becomes a fiery business-like mess heavy with guilt. But not today, and no one is more surprised than Ludwig himself. Though, as he reminiscences the night before, he had every bit to be relaxed and sated. 

Just thinking about it brings something akin to the shyest of smiles to Ludwig’s face and he passes a hand through his ruffled hair, not even minding the fact that he must have the wildest case of bed hair right now. he stretches a little, more out of habit than a necessity, Feliciano -as he had pleasantly found last night- knew how to work his fingers very well. 

‘and not only his fingers’ Ludwig thinks satisfied, a bit surprised at not feeling any soreness in places he ought to be. Maybe he should relinquish control more often. 

The creak of the opening door wakes him out of his musings only to see a very confident Feliciano walk in - tray in hand. Amber eyes regard him contented and sure, posture relaxed and strong. Ludwig can’t help but notice the changes and wishing to have seen them sooner. 

Feliciano just approaches the bed, sits nest to Ludwig and opens the tray, expert fingers already taking the fork. “Fresh Tortellini, I just made them.  _Buon appetito_! ” he says, muttering the last part to his ear, in an act of daring seduction as he feels the cold fork placed on the palm of his hand. 

Germany finally breaks a smile, and not one to be bested, he turns around kissing Feliciano’s cheek while saying “If I am, I will show my praises to the chef. Personally”

The Italian’s coy glance and rosy cheeks are all the answer he needs. 


	31. RusFem!Can (power games)

“You sat on me” she says walking past him, hands busy unclasping an elegant earring, purse hanging on her risen elbow hitting her curvaceous hips as she moved to the vanity, moonlight fragments on her dress, drawing all attention to her figure and the scandalous cut on the back, barely covered and Russia can’t do anything else but watch with voracious eyes like an hypnotized inept. She doesn’t seem to acknowledged him, her back straight her strides sure and measured  and her mouth remains shut of any speech as he closes the door and Russia knows she is livid.

_'Good’_  he thinks angrily, eyes darkening at seeing how she is seated on the bed, one leg risen and bent in a away that seems comfortable but unnecessarily indecent as she tries to undo her heels well well pedicured toes placid and inviting for anyone who wanted to look at them. Noticing again that he was losing himself, Ivan scowled. He had warned her not to go with that dress, and she had defied him: she ought to have known he would retaliate.   

The atmosphere in their hotel room on Prague is tense, but neither does anything to alleviate it. Only when Canada starts to massage the arc of his foot with a pleased hum does Ivan lose his patience and approaches the bed “Yes I did. I warned you-”

“You do not have any right over what I wear or not Russia” she cuts immediately, a true testament of ow little regard she has of politeness and manners when angry. It only irritates Ivan more. 

Because there is nothing but truth on her words. No matter if they are together, if they have a relationship or not, Canada will never be truly  _his_. Whether to love, protect, punish, guide or please, Canada doesn’t belong to him, never will and never had. Russia will never have any word if Canada dresses in a way that displays all of her charms, stunning the world and infatuating all nations to bid to her desires. Russia shouldn’t complain if Canada moved invitingly to other nations, if she seduced any other man or woman with elegance and polite sensuality. Canada doesn’t belong to him- but Madeline  _does_. 

Ivan will never admit of feeling personally slighted, but his trust was now very fragile. He was not exactly the best of men the world had to offer, he knows it, he has lived with it, just like how he was learned to accept that their relationship did not come trough healthy means - not that anything he gained during the Cold War ever was. But he trusted her, she had wanted to continue their relationship even after he fell, even when she was free of blackmail and he had nothing on her or for her to make her stay. She could have chose anyone in the world but she had decided to stay with him - perhaps out of love, perhaps out of a terrible Stockholm syndrome, but she hadn’t left him. She had decided to be  _his,_ and so Ivan started to warm up on the idea of being hers, of belonging to someone.  

(Ivan remembers the first time they laid together, and the many more that followed, he remembers Alfred’s reaction of finding out about them, remembers the threats…)

But apparently she didn’t care. ’ _You are mine’_ , he had hissed the evening she first showed him that dress, eyes dilated and hands fast on her hips, _'this dress is just for me Madelen, I don’t want anyone see you like this. You belong to me, no need to show yourself like this to anyone else. I will take care of you.’_

He hoped she could understand, but she hadn’t, and had appeared tonight wearing the dress and the world had frozen, flocked and swooned around her - and he had been left with nothing else but obscure her from the world.    

“You are a fool Ivan.” she starts again, voice condescending and cruel “instead of taking me out to dance, to engage me on a conversation and giving me a glass of champagne  exerting your power and dominance to the whole world, letting them know that I am with such a possessive and loving nation; you went ahead and trashed everything with an act worth of a man in caves. Bravo Russia” she finishes wanly, eyes looking at him without the expected heat or anger.  

Her confession stings more than the obvious barb aimed at him. 

He will not apologize, and she may need more than an apology, so he only sits beside her silent and she work on her other shoe while berating himself of how he acted, on how he should have known Madeline wasn’t thinking about having another lover and only wanted to make him better and have something to brag about in the gala. 

But then again, she ought to have known how how Ivan was, how he normally acted and that he wasn’t really that eloquent (wasn’t what she wanted for this evening something more akin to what _France_  would do?). Perhaps the fault was on both sides. 

But what to do? he asked to himself, wanting to dispel the suffocating air and feeling ashamed for even wanting to forgo everything and just kiss her, touch her and make her forget the awful evening with ecstasy. He should stop looking at her or the dress, it will do him no good. 

But watching how it slides down her bent leg, exposing the pale skin Ivan remembers the first time he had apologized to her, how he had knelled before her after wiping her tears and kissed her toes lovingly in-

That was it! 

With a new purpose he leans over her, hands taking hers, feeling the softness of her skin and the little jewels on her fingernails. Canada tenses. “Don’t touch me" 

But the hands stayed. "Allow me" 

Canada closed her eyes and breathe slowly before opening them again, giving him a sad look. "Go on” Madeline said a small smile on her lips, and that’s all what Ivan needed.


	32. AmeCan (sick fic)

It was not everyday that Alfred did something very “housewife-y” (as he liked to dub any activity involving a bit of stereotypical femininity) but when he arrived home, to find Canada sleeping on the couch breathing hard and forehead burning he did not think twice about leaving his jacket on the floor, put a blanket on the slumbering Canadian (whispering sweet nothings and light kind kisses on forehead included) and going upstairs to prepare a bath for Matthew. Because if there was a thing he detested more than that time he had to wear a drag on a German camp to get some information from a drunk Prussia, was a sick Canada.

Perhaps it was a childhood trauma, but whenever he saw Canada sick (even if it was just a light cough) he panicked. Not even in the “flocking around Matthew, asking if he was ok and asking for a sick leave”, no, his panic attacks were more on the lines of “flipping the table, taking out his gun and starting to menace anyone who appeared suspicious of having poisoned his brother, while demanding instant medical attention to his brother, and god forbid if Canada actually fainted”.

(it had happened before, and that’s the main reason why there is always an available and well supplied doctor inside the building whenever a meeting was going)

He wasn’t that bad nowadays, but finding Canada sick was abhorrently unpleasant. It awakened strong protective instincts that even he couldn’t control sometimes. There had been a few times he had concerted a plan of taking Matthew as his, having him on a perfectly controlled space where only he could visit, where Matthew was free and safe from pain and any kind of illness brought by the whole world - there had been fewer times the urge got too strong and acted on it.

Luckily he had never succeed - but even he doubted the unlikeness of it happening again. 

Once he changed the bed sheets to clean ones and made sure the water’s temperature was right, he carried Matthew in his arms and stripped the other on the Bathroom counter - the northern nation too disoriented to realize what was going on, and Alfred paused, terrified at the implications that anyone (himself included) could have entered Matthew’s home and taken advantage of him without repercussions- with heavy but dutiful fingers and brought the other to the dark cherry wood bathtub.

Canada sighed at the contact with the water and almost instinctively he leaned against Alfred’s clothed Body “Al?” he mumbled drowsily, never noticing how proud he made the american.

“Shhh, it’s me Mattie” he hushed against sweat dampened hair “I’m here now, let me take care of you” he continued, wetting a soft sponge with water and applying a bit of shower oil, lathering it a little before starting to wash and massage his lover. Loving how, even while feverish, Matthew leaned against his touch

Once done, he dressed Matthew with clean clothes and he left him sleeping on his clean bed before going downstairs to prepare supper. Taking the apron and fastening it around his waist he made a fast list of any possible reason (natural, unnatural, or premeditated) of his brother’s sudden illness, and finding nothing hostile he let it go. There was no one he could put the blame to and make them burn, that meant he could concentrate everything on making the most delicious supper ever made and be the perfect cuddling pillow.

On the bright side he could now smother the Canadian like a kid once again. 


	33. Fem!Uk/Can

“This is inexcusable Williams!” Alarice's indignant objection can be heard throughout the bedroom lounge, and normally that would be enough to put anyone on their toes for the temper of England is legendary and no one has ever gotten away without a burnt.

No one except for The man on his knees in front of her, one of her feet on his gloved hands, lacquering her toes with utmost care and purpose, blowing at them.

It is delicious, the feel of the cold nail polish on her toenails, the spontaneous subservient nature of the one dearest to her heart. It is obscene, the way he blows at her toes, the way his lips -so full and tempting- almost touch her feet, the subservience that comes not from a page but from a lover submitting to her banal activities.

Canada knows that well - what his actions are eliciting on her- and so he continues with his role of servant - an excuse to pamper England in ways that the woman won’t reject them. They are the perks of a middle power, Canada realizes as he lacquers the pinky toenail, he knows what the powerful and once empires strive to feel, and he, being who he is - and what Ukraine taught him to be- does not find anything more pleasant than to surrender a little and please them in ways he can control.

Not that he would ever mind surrendering himself completely to Alarice - and perhaps some other woman, but Alarice was always first- but just him, Matthew Williams, surrendering Canada on the other hand was out of question. 

Once he makes sure her toenails are dry he takes the respective shoe -a beautiful Louboutin Heel, sensible and as less French as it can be- and ties the lace carefully on her, being gracious enough to linger his fingers on her ankle and never looking up until the dressed foot pushes under his shin to look up.

“Did Ukraine teach you how to do that?” is the only thing she asks green eyes guarded lips in a thin line and Matthew knows what is the true question and tries not to sigh. One of the saddest downsides of being with her, was the little self-worth Alarice had for herself from time to time. Matthew found them endearing, but whenever they happened his pride was nicked. Had he given her a reason to doubt his faithfulness and love to her?

“No” is the tranquil answer, a soft smile on his lips, reassuring her that she should just lean back against the majestic chair and enjoy the attention “I noticed how you looked at me that time we went to the opera and I thought you may like it. I’ve been practicing for a week so I may not be truly genuine, but let it never be said that I am an inattentive partner. Now miss Kirkland if you may raise your other foot please? I need to fasten your other shoe” he finishes with an affable smile so engaging that makes Alarice’s stomach twitch and wishes that Matthew would just stop being a dear and starts worshiping her feet like the little obedient page he is supposed to be now. 


	34. Amecan [break up]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #The new elected president of Mexico on his acceptance speech said that Obama Called him to congratulate him #and said that Mexico is one of the most important relationships to the United States #so here you have angst and a break up #over the phone no less

“Am I the most important relationship to you?”

Alfred coughed on his drink. This wasn’t what he was expecting when he picked his mobile. Between the congress and the preparations for his birthday, he had been busy to exhaustion and needed a few minutes of peace and rest. He and had been taking a few minutes off when his mobile rang. He answered with a greeting mastered to perfection -“Alfred of America, how may I help you?”- wanting nothing more but for the call to be over.

The question however made him pause. Important relationships? What was going on today with a relation- Oh yes Mexico and Obama’s call

“Of course you are Andres” he confirmed pleasant, it was better to try and mend their relationships now that Mexico had a new President. Especially when the PRIM was back in power of the nation.

“You aren’t subtle at all Al” that wasn’t the reply he was expecting, and once he recognized the voice - recognized the simmering fury behind the frosty diplomatic tone, and the hurt- his stomach dropped. 

“Mattie?!” he jumped out of his seat, knocking down his drink, heart beating fast. 

“I should have known when you weren’t here yesterday…” the Canadian continued on the line, voice incisive and punishing making him bite his lip to stifle an angry retort. He hadn’t forgotten about his lover’s birthday, he just couldn’t be there, but Matthew should have received his present! Matthew couldn’t be unreasonable and imply- “…Or perhaps when that candidate of yours implied  _my_  oil sands belong to you…” Alfred watches the phone in disbelief right then. He had apologized about Romney’s faux pas already! What was this all about? “…But having to find out the truth by CNN is very embarrassing.”

Finding about what? He widened his eyes once the implications of the question and his answer meant. Shit.  "Wait Matt-“

"It is Canada to you United States” and the line went dead.

Alfred stood there, drink warming on the floor dirtying his shoes. Mind still trying to grasp what just happened, but his fingers already calling Matthew via speed dial (number 2) and hopes that Mattie will answer because he is acting like he is crazy and this is just a misunderstanding and he vows to make it up on his birthday- 

after thirty tries he throws the mobile away, calls it a day and goes home. 

Feeling just as miserable as the Canadian, who is sleeping in Netherlands' home.   


	35. Future GerCan [Gen, people plotting]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since Ludwig and Canada are deep in denial. It is time the people around them had a meeting for strategy and damage control.

If one were to describe Ludwig Beilschmidt and Matthew Williams it would be “inseparable”.

(though other terms such as “UST”, “wet dreams”, “OTP”, and “why won’t they just fuck already?!” were a correct option as well)

They had known each other since forever. (Forever and a day, some would say while chewing on a hamburger.)

So in the end it wasn’t surprising when the news arrived that they were dating.

The surprise was they weren’t dating each other.

When Elizabetha heard the news she instantly knew something was wrong, she didn’t have to wait for the signs of coldness in their relationship to be sure, she instantly knew something was wrong.

Belladonna knew it as well, she knew it before Ludwig even got into a relationship with that Belorussian: Matthew had been listless, just finally coming to terms of being bisexual (or Pansexual, as her brother had declared once, nude with an equally naked Canadian sleeping on his chest) when he had texted her with a picture of Ludwig kissing the girl. She had to do some damage control before her brother did it first.

She had been late of course, and will never forget the image of them naked.

(and not because she has it as her phone wallpaper)

It was Alfred’s idea that maybe, just maybe, they should gather together and take matters on their own hands.

“They should be enjoying the love together” Francis had said while leaning on the counter finally finished with decorating a wedding cake. (if someone noticed how longingly the Frenchman was looking at the cake they made no remark)

“You just want them to be shagging that is all” Arthur snorted, crossing his arms, not paying attention at how Alfred chocked on his food. Uncouth as always.

“Well yes of course we do!” Lovino (representing both of the Vargas twins - Veneziano was in violin class) replied as a matter of fact. He was honestly tired of those two dancing around each other. He wasn’t one for fate and superstition, but they both had been awfully close when toddlers, Ludwig had been awfully possessive of Matthew and it rand both ways.

They needed a good hard dicking at the hands of the other, and then maybe, just maybe, everything could come back to normal and he would have his friends (yes even the potato bastard) back.

“Ladies!” a voice cut through the ramblings, red eyes (contact lenses mind you, his eyes were a pretty shade of teal but he had deemed them “too common”) studying the people sitting in the Patisserie’s grand salon. “it warms my great heart to see you want to help them out of their silly denial. But we need a plan”

“That’s why we are here dude!” Alfred began refrained from throwing a dirty napkin to the trashcan. He didn’t have the best of aims, and wanted to avoid Francis’ wrath, at all costs. “Matt is being a complete wreck, and so not helping me with science!”

“Not to mention how irritating Ludwig has been.” Arthur added “uncooperative and forgetful. His duties as the treasurer have become mediocre”

“Yes, yes we all know about how irritating they both are. What we need is a plan” there was a purposely dramatic pause, the red-eye man searching confirmation from Francis’ before continuing “and I have an awesome plan”

Gilbert, Ludwig’s guardian (for one more year and three months - since five years ago) knew this whole new arrangement was wrong. He would have believed that his brother liked sadistic women (and damn wasn’t that Belorussian a fest to the eyes?) and that Birdie liked an open sexfriendship with Bella’s older Brother had it not been for how miserable they were.

Heck he even knew the the root of his little brother’s problem laid on the fact that he was head over heels with his best friend’s kid. (one just had to look at his porn stack to find the similarities between gay porn, Hard BSDM, and the lean guy with purple eyes and blond hair. Ludwig was everything but not very subtle)

Unlike everyone else though, Gilbert had a Plan.

and that ladies and gentlemen is how you start a villainous and very resourceful conspiracy.

All in the name of good sex.

(oh and Ludwig’s and Matthew’s happiness, but the sex was imperative)


	36. DenCan (gen. crack Demon!Matt)

“you can’t go on killing people like that!” He blew off horrified at the sight of the blood splattered demon on his courtyard - and were those bits of entrails?! God just how did this little monster kill all those humans?! And just for such petty reasons!

The demon just blinked, missing out why the human was fumming and gestiulating so wildly, was a spider bothering him? It must be, else why would he be speaking such silly nonsense? “Why not?” was the innocent question

 

Magnum paused. He couldn’t rationalize it was the wrong thing to do, Matthew was a demon - they didn’t care about such things. But how could he just stop the craziness at least a little?! Frustrated he looked at the wall before the idea just struck him, taking a deep breath he intoned “You are living with me, in this house, house rules state no killing, or murdering other humans. Is that clear? If you don’t want to follow them you can leave this house and never enther again!”

He never expected the demon to look scared, but for once it was nice and he felt good. Even if he didn’t know what he had done. But it seemed surprised wouldn’t end just there, for the demon just knelt in front of him, head bowing before kissing his feet slowly.

What the-

“Please don’t be mad. I swear I won’t kill more humans who insult you, just please don’t make me go?” he spoke shyly, his tone too honest, too frail, and for a moment Magnum felt like the greatest dick in the universe. 

But he had done nothing wrong had he? Probably he had just spared some couple og hundred humans, taht ought to buy him cookie points in heaven. Sighing he crouched  looking at the demon eye to eye (no tears at least, good!) “if you kill another human again you will never be allowed in here again. ever.” he paused for efect, and was pleased when the demon nodded hastily - just why was he acting like a child all of sudden? “good. now go and wash off all that blood, you are staining the garden and the flowers won’t like it”


	37. Another Carvderse AU (RusCan past Amecan)

“Do you know how much time has passed since you were punished?” The king of Clubs asked, watching the just recovered King of Spades. 

The former (or was it crowned again?) monarch shrugged, blue eyes never leaving his mirror image out of sight. He knew this wasn’t a joke, no matter how much he wished it to be so. He was finally free, but Matthew, his brother, his friend, his lover, his Ace - his everything- was gone. 

They all had paid a terrible price. He had never expected to see someone else living on his brother’s skin. 

“Twelve thousand years.” The King of Clubs continued, relishing on his former enemy’s tension, trying not to laugh when those blue eyes regarded him with disbelief. “Matvei  got out of his prison on the first century and used the next eleven thousand years to try to free you and the Queen. But even the greatest of Aces cannot be perpetually victorious.” he leaned, taking the former prisoner's chin “even the most loyal of lovers can give up if left unattended”

Alfred snarled at those murmured words. Just how dare he?! 

(he doesn’t know if it means Ivan or Matthew. Ivan for being himself, or Matthew for forgetting who he is.)

But he knows it to be true. In his prison Time wasn’t an issue, he had thought that perhaps only a few years, maybe even just a millennium had passed. Their promised vows had been of eleven thousand years and a night before Matthew was left free of their bonds. 

It had been twelve thousand years already.

And if the Club ring on his beloved’s right hand was any indication, he had already chosen. 

“Matvei is happy now. Away from you” the words of the King of clubs are piercing, opening wounds and poking raw flesh just for simple pleasure. “He blooms with clovers. You are not his master anymore. You are free, go and build your kingdom away” and with that the larger man leaves him, never glancing back. Alfred feels his blood boil with betrayal when his Matthew (or was he  _his_  anymore?) smiles at the approaching monarch and runs to greet him.

He feels his heart shatter as he notices his lover (or should it be former?) is nude. There are no clothes that hide his glorious (even if it is plagues with scars now) body. He wants nothing more but kill Ivan when he notices there is nothing left of him on Mattie.

Alfred can’t see the Spades mark on his skin anymore. 

(though it may be a relief that he can’t see a clover either)

But he stops.

He can’t kill when Matthew is smiling as if there is nothing greater in the world but the man in front of him. Feels his heart twist when the proof of Matthew’s happiness is shown, and it stops his blade.

He truly should leave. Let bygones be bygones; let this be the price to pay for the horrible mistakes he made in the past…

But Alfred has always been greedy. Of his Kingdom, of his subjects, and especially of Matthew. 

Twelve thousand years of absence -and Matthew’s happiness- would not be an obstacle.

Never.


End file.
